i forgot this was some kind of desperate art project

I never let myself fully heal. I "get over it". I pick my scabs until they scar.

I think I suppress everything. I maintain this even keel of relatability without revealing myself. I do this even to myself; sometimes I feel like a foreigner trapped inside my body.

Why is personal growth so hard.

im bad at sending post cards

I don't know where I am going. Some days I don't even know who I am. I feel emotionally withdrawn, dissociating myself from myself. I bargain with my morals and beliefs. I don't fit in. I don't fucking fit in anywhere. I feel jaded and awkward and stiff. Sometimes, I just feel blank. Like an email full of short sentences.......

Its hard for me to digest this realization: my current empty isolation is somehow better than therapy. I would rather run away. I would rather quit my job, sell everything I own, burn all my bridges and start a new identity than get therapy. I keep thinking that some things are just meant to be buried. You get over it. I just need to learn how to get over it. Become a different person. Remember less.

I think the body remembers what the mind cannot. Strained eye muscles blur our vision-blocking out the harshness of reality.It dulls the visuals of life.I live my life with blinde eyes. I flinch when someone surprises me with a high five-a reflex from an abusive childhood. How do I unlearn this?

re re: Cop Outs

While we are on the subject:

I don't think anyone will ever love me. I stay fat to keep people away. I am afraid of success.I am afraid of finally accomplishing something, anything. It means I've wasted all my goddamn life beings second rate because I am afraid. I stand still. I use people. I am afraid to go to college. I do not want to buckle under pressure. I don't want sex. I can't even touch myself.

re: nobody fucking cares

Being an adult probably means some bullshit about knowing how to cope with your issues. Not by eating, drinking, sleeping, or smoking away your feelings. Even the wings on my fucking feet can't get me out of here.

I cannot follow the tyler durden philosophy of finding out what youre afraid of and living there. Id live in some skinny nice pretty girls body and enjoy fucking men. I'd be ten feet tall and sociable.

I wouldn't fall for.

I am contimplating getting drunk to catalog my insanity.

re: realizing that you can never go home

sitting in your empty apartment naked and drinking by yourself

re: there is no logic when it cums to matters of the heart

I haven't been touched in 15 months.My body remembers what my mind cannot. Quivering thighs and sweaty palms. Lips licked wet with antagonizing anticipation. I play the collected role choosing my words carefully. Shy eye contact and cute fluttery blinks with questions. Too often do I feel like grabbing you by the shoulders and spitting out some plea like; love me love me love me love me love me love me love me love me

There is no poetry here.

re: learning to live

Deleting every social networking site profile and spending as little time as possible on the internet. Getting in trouble at work for writing on the job. Second jobs. Using your body.